


Easy Living

by Band_obsessed



Series: Lost Time [3]
Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Parenthood, Sharing a Bed, Vault 81
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-04
Updated: 2020-09-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26283190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Band_obsessed/pseuds/Band_obsessed
Summary: “Have you ever thought about having kids?” Savannah asked, quietly.Danse inhaled heavily, voice rough with sleep — slow and drawled. Guilt squirmed in her chest. “Only in passing.” His hand trailed higher, combed his fingers clumsily through her still-damp hair. “Why do you ask?”ORVault 81 brings a lot more into question about parenthood than Savannah had planned for.
Relationships: Paladin Danse/Female Sole Survivor, Paladin Danse/Sole Survivor (Fallout)
Series: Lost Time [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881085
Comments: 4
Kudos: 33





	Easy Living

**Author's Note:**

> This is pure, gratuitous fluff that I was inspired to write while re-playing the Vault 81 questline. Like most of what I set out to write, this managed to morph into something else entirely. 
> 
> Thank you all again for all the outpouring of love and attention on my previous works -- it means so much to me <3

“Have you ever thought about having kids?” Savannah asked, quietly, only for it to occur to her that Danse might be asleep — the only sounds in the room being his steady, even breaths and the ambient hum of the vault machinery. But his arm was still curled around her shoulders, his cheek pressed firmly against the crown of her head. It would have been almost overly possessive — the way she was tucked against the line of his body — if she didn’t know _why_ he was doing it.

He hadn’t let her out of his sight since they descended. Since they’d stepped into the elevator and felt their stomachs lurch from underneath them. It had felt alarmingly like it had two hundred years ago, that same, sinking feeling as the darkness grew around them. Danse’s hand had clasped over her shoulder the moment he felt her tense, a metal-clad thumb rubbing gently at the exposed skin of her neck. Hell, he’d even stepped out of his armour entirely the second McNamara had shown them to a spare, private bedroom. Wrapped her in his arms and held her until she’d stop shaking.

The armour was still in the corner now, standing like a sentinel by the bed. And his arms were still coiled around her, pressing her to the large bulk of his warmth.

His fingers trailed up her arm and she startled as they traced lazy circles against her bicep. They hadn’t bothered redressing after their shower — a _proper_ shower, with _warm_ , running water and God, Savannah may hate vaults but even she couldn’t deny the amenities — had just slipped under the crisp, _clean_ sheets and gravitated towards each other.

He inhaled heavily, voice rough with sleep — slow and drawled. Guilt squirmed in her chest. “Only in passing.” His hand trailed higher, combed his fingers clumsily through her still-damp hair. “Why do you ask?”

“You’re good with them, is all,” she replied, curled her toes around his calf. God, he was warm. It was insufferable half the time on the surface, but down here? when everything already reminded her of her old life? the heat was a welcome reprieve and she sank into it, rolled over and pressed her face into his chest, felt the wiry hairs rub at her cheek, against her bare shoulder.

He looked like a statue in this light — in the half-darkness and the glinting gold spilling in through the slats in the blind — all clean, carved muscle shadowed in those muted, swirling blue tones, an entire galaxy spilled across his skin. He ducked his head, pressed a lingering kiss to the crown of her head and she sighed, melted into him.

“I help train the squires, sometimes. It’s…rewarding. But fatherhood? That’s not something I’ve particularly entertained. Especially not while we’re at war. An active combat zone is no place to raise a child.” His voice reverberated, rumbled through his chest and Savannah chased the echoes of the sound, traced the letters against his skin.

He was right, in his own way. And it eased…something in her chest to know that he disproved of the children aboard the Prydwen as much as she did. She’d seen it in the ticking of his jaw whenever Kells would order squires out on missions, armed with nothing but a pistol and small, flimsy armour. It was the closest she had ever seen him to refusing an order, rank be damned, but she knew his loyalties were too deeply rooted to ever voice his complaints.

Still. In these moments, these stretching, shrouded nights with just the two of them made her believe more than ever in the good buried in his heart. The smallest, barely-there cracks in the foundation of the Brotherhood’s flawed beliefs. She hoped they’d grow, splinter the walls like ivy up a building, that he’d leave, follow her when she asked. But a larger part of her knew that it would take nothing short of a miracle for him to abandon the cause he’d poured over a decade of his life into. Faintly, distantly, she worried about what would happen when it came down to it. Came down to choosing sides — to choosing the force of power in the ‘Wealth.

She knew Desdemona had been drawing up plans, and she had no doubt Maxson would be doing the same if he ever discovered the existence of the Railroad. Peace would never be an option and she’d have to choose between her morality and her heart. The knowledge rested like a boulder on her chest, crushed her ribs beneath the weight. But that was later. A problem for the light of day, the cresting dawn. She felt safe, here. Safe in a _vault_ of all places. Then again that was more of a testament to Danse’s presence than anything else. To the grounding, protected feeling that encompassed her whenever he was near. And if — _when_ — they got Shaun back, rescued her baby and put him back in her arms she hoped he’d be by her side. Danse could never replace Nate, not in that way. She didn’t expect him to. She couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to any of them. But she couldn’t think of a better paternal figure to have in Shaun’s life. Or one she wanted there more.

“You’d be a great father, Danse,” she confessed, hushed into the silence. _To Shaun_ , she didn’t say. She wasn’t sure she was ready — wasn’t sure _he_ was ready — to hear that. Not yet. But she’d seen him interact with Austin on the first day — the soft patience in his tone as he’d answered whatever questions Austin had thrown his way without even a hint of irritation. She’d seen it again in the classroom. Hell, he’d even retrieved his armour — let the children peer inside and run curious, careful fingers across the metal.

“One day, maybe.” There wasn’t enough light to properly see by, but she felt the blush trail across his chest in a flush of warmth. Peered up and vaguely made out the small, bashful tilt of his head.

She bit her tongue before it could run loose, sound out the words she’d spent so long thinking. Held it fast before she could say something stupid, could ask Danse whether he’d be there for her. For Shaun. For _them._

He mistook her silence for sadness, for guilt. Pulled her against him and wrapped his arms fully around her.

“We’ll find Shaun, Anna. I promise you.” He sounded so damn earnest that her chest fluttered, warmth spreading down to her fingertips. She pushed herself up against him until she could lay fully against his chest, the hair tickling at the swell of her breasts.

She pressed her lips to his once. Twice. Sighed as she pulled back slightly. “I know,” she whispered, leant down and kissed him again. “I know. I just— Part of me worries what’ll happen when we do.”

There was a truth in those words she hadn’t meant to say. That she hadn’t wanted to give voice to. But the darkness had a way of prying them from her chest. That and the open, glinting look in Danse’s eyes. His brow furrowed, hands smoothing down her back to rest in the dip of her waist.

She continued before he could ask.

“I…I’ve already failed him once. And that was _with_ Nate. I don’t know what I’ll do if it happens again. I mean, you said it yourself, Danse. A combat zone is no place for a child. What if something happens to him because I can’t—“ Her voice cracked and she closed her eyes, steadied her breathing. All at once, she felt too exposed. Too open. Flayed bare beneath Danse’s gaze, the sombre look on his face. She ducked her head and rested it against his collarbone, rubbed absently at his cheek, his beard coarse beneath her thumb.

“Sometimes I wonder what I’ve brought him into. The world wasn’t any less violent back then but it was…softer. More comfortable. Now I…if he grows up here what kind of person will he become? I don’t want to teach my baby how to _kill_ but I…I know I’ll have to put a gun in his hands and show him how to pull the trigger and it makes me—“

She blinked back the heat behind her eyes furiously. Grounded herself with the strong, steady rhythm of Danse’s heart underneath her palm, felt it echo through her own chest.

“I just never thought I’d have to raise him _alone._ ”

Above her, she heard Danse open his mouth, felt the shift of his chin, his jaw. He closed it again a beat later. She glanced up, lifted her head from his chest and watched the uncertainty flicker across his face — the shadows spilling from his hair to his cheek and down his jaw. They morphed in the glimmer of light. Shifted along the silver outline that cut neatly through his brow, arched over his cheekbone.

“You’re not alone,” he settled on finally, so soft she barely heard it. But there was a conviction in his words and Savannah clung to it, that confidence, that certainty. Another beat passed and his gaze flitted from her face to an undefined space above her head, chased flickers across the ceiling. “You have the Brotherhood.”

In a rush, she knew the game he was playing — the half-truths in the wake of something he was too scared to say. Toeing that invisible line, the fear of voicing something too soon. Saying something he couldn’t take back. She rested a hand against his cheek, tilted his face until his eyes focused on her face, hesitant and conflicted.

The moment stretched between them, measured only by the faint ticking of the clock — an honest to God, pre-war, _analogue_ one — and the steady jumping of his heart beneath her breasts. She couldn’t keep the words buried anymore. Felt them spill from her chest like honey from a hive, snagged on the fear lodged in her throat.

“Do I have _you_?” she asked, more a whisper than anything solid and his eyes widened slightly, face shifting into tentative hope, a burning blaze of relief and joy. “Because I…Shaun and I are a package deal. I’ve already lost him once. I need to know that you’re going to be there for me. For him. For _us_. I don’t want to assume but I—“

He kissed her in answer, soundly and desperately, slotted his mouth over hers and she stopped trying to form words, kissed him back with just as much urgency. Cupped his jaw and wove her fingers into the strands of his hair, scratched lightly against the nape of his neck as his head lifted off the pillow.

God, she didn’t think she’d ever tire of kissing him. Of the way his lips dragged against hers, chapped and warm and gentle, even in all their roughness. There was so _much_ of him, always. The glide of his hands up her back, stopping to cup her shoulders, sliding around her ribs, cradling the back of her head, tangling almost frantically in her hair. His heart rate spiked below her, thundered against her skin and Savannah wondered if he could feel hers as well — the answering, frenzied tempo.

She ran her hands down across his chest and traced the lines of his muscles, dragged her nails down his abdomen. He nipped at her lip in answer, a low groan reverberating through his chest and she gripped him tighter, poured all the love and longing and hope she possibly could into the kiss — into the glide of her lips over his, the hint of a tongue, the catch of teeth.

“Always,” he panted as they parted, cradled her head with a large palm and drew her forehead forward to rest against his. “You’ll always have me, Savannah.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please consider leaving a comment or kudos if you enjoyed! :)


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